


Sensory memory

by Lautari



Series: Threading Stars [7]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types
Genre: Family Feels, Grief/Mourning, Loss, Loss of Innocence, Loss of Parent(s), Lost Love, Memory Related
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-27
Updated: 2019-11-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:49:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21584848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lautari/pseuds/Lautari
Summary: Luke’s throat closed and he moved to pull away, but Ben caught his arm, meaning to hold him there. Luke grinned. That was a decidedly Skywalker trait.
Series: Threading Stars [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1255013
Comments: 4
Kudos: 34





	Sensory memory

**Author's Note:**

> Setting: During "Fury"

It was decidedly unsettling to be back on Endor’s moon, especially with the arrival of Wedge and Janson. Bad memories plagued what was the site of freedom’s most pivotal victory because it was also where Luke had experienced his most personal losses. It unnerved him to have Ben here among the memories and debris of the Death Star and his own former life when the loss of Mara was still so close. He stayed up long after the others fell quiet before wandering in to where his son slept. Luke stroked his son’s hair, fighting the urge to bury his face in it and breathe in its scent. He hadn’t done that in years. He remembered it always smelled like that soap Mara had loved; creamy bantha milk and the sasserflower, which no longer grew on Coruscant after the Vong invasion. Lost, like so much else. It was a scent that was familiar to him for years, an indulgence she allowed herself. He didn’t know what it was of course until after they married but it was soft, and her, and…home. What she replaced it with he couldn’t remember, and now he regretted it.

_Mara craned her neck, to look him in the eye. “What are you looking at, Skywalker?”_

_He nearly jumped out of his skin and tore his eyes away from the curve of her neck. He blushed and looked at his feet. “N-nothing.”_

_Mara raised an eyebrow, but said nothing else, turning back to her exercises. “You need to push your shoulders back. Extend your leg.”_

_“You smell good,” he said abruptly._

_Mara frowned and met his gaze in the mirror on the wall beside them, suddenly aware of the heat of his hand gripping the practice bar only centimeters from hers. “I like to shower after a full day of intense training.”_

_“And I like to relax.”_

_“This is relaxing,” Mara growled, as if it were the hundredth time. “I’m over meditating. You’re going to have to seriously jazz it up once you start that Academy of yours.”_

_“Seriously, what are you wearing?”_

_“It’s just my soap, farmboy.” He blushed again, and she padded her words with a slight grin. “Now I told you, extend your leg…”_

He wondered what Ben’s hair smelled like now. He leaned forward and pressed his lips against it, not lingering, but indulging. How Han got through the days without his boys he didn’t know. Ben stirred, and Luke soothingly ran his fingers through his dark auburn hair. Despite his hair, Ben was definitely Luke’s. Everyone said so, including Mara who had been fond of blaming the Skywalker blues when he chided her for indulging their son too much. But often, Luke could see her, more and more, gazing out at him. They way Ben’s eyes stared through him, brow furrowed in concentration. They way he walked, that elegant grace Luke never possessed at that age. The way he leaned against the wall with a leg crossed in front of the other on a toe. It was at once comforting and heartbreaking.

He wondered if that was what his son’s namesake felt like, seeing him for the first time in years in the Tatooine desert, chasing down Artoo. Seeing his old friend, someone he’d loved, in the face of someone else. _He caught Ben’s gaze watching him in the Falcon’s rec area. “What?”_

_The old jedi turned his amused gaze back to the fierce game between the Wookie and R2. “You remind me of your father.” He smiled reassuringly. “It’s a good thing.”_

Luke remembered wanting to ask about his mother, but decided not to, something else he regretted all these years later. Guiltily, he’d rarely thought of her over the years, Beru being the center of his universe. He had wondered briefly if his mother been like the quiet, simple woman who raised him, or perhaps an adventurer. Perhaps a queen. Maybe Beru had known her. He found comfort in those dreams, not having been ripped away as his ideals of his father had been. And…he’d had a mother. Not that Owen hadn’t loved him-or he, Owen-but Beru had always been what he needed. His constant. As he got older, he and Owen butted heads more and more, the man stating he was too much like his father. He found himself longing for the father he never knew, seeking some kind of kinship. Now, he wished he could speak to the gruff old man once more to tell him he understood, as he watched his son sleep, his uncle more than anyone else now and why he'd been so terrified for Luke.

He longed tell him he loved and missed him, but that everything had turned out.

Ben’s gaze brought him out of his reverie. “What’s wrong?” he asked blearily.

Luke shook his head. “Shhh. Nothing. Go back to sleep. I just wanted to see you.”

Ben accepted this and burrowed against his pillow. “I’m glad you’re here, Dad,” he murmured.

Luke’s throat closed and he moved to pull away, but Ben caught his arm, meaning to hold him there. Luke grinned. That was a decidedly Skywalker trait. He loved being petted as a child. Beru would put him to sleep with a fluff to his hair and kiss on the forehead and there were nights Owen would slip in after working late and massage the long hair he was always griping about. Luke would lay still breathing in the odd scent of oil and burned electrical wiring, knowing Owen allowed himself these small moments of tenderness thinking he was unaware.

After he married Mara, she would stroke his hair in bed, lulling him to sleep. She would stroke it in passing, absently, as much a comfort to her as him. He and Ben were also hair twirlers themselves, fond memories of Mara’s hair gathered and spilling out of his fists while he kissed her neck or twirling it in small sections while she leaned against him as he sipped caff or read from his datapad. Many times Ben would slip off to the sleep in his mother’s arms in the cockpit, twirling her hair between his fingers. She would grin wryly at him in the pilot’s seat. _“He’s your son,” she mused._

Impulsively, he leaned forward again and buried his face in Ben’s hair. “You smell like your mom,” he whispered, feeling like he needed to explain his affection.

Ben stilled for a moment and then confessed, “You know sometimes I sneak into your room on the _Shadow_ and smell her perfume. I don't spray it, but I like to just take a whiff from the lid.”

Luke knew the bottle. It was on the nightstand, the bottle yet another small indulgence she allowed herself. She wore it sparingly, the stronger, spicy scent reserved for special occasions. It remained by the bed, where she’d last tossed it. He smiled and kissed Ben’s head before his hair a final, rough tuss. “It’s okay to miss her, you know,” he whispered hoarsely.

A few long beats stretched the silence. “I know.”

“And you know I love you. I’ll never let anything happen to you. I’ll always protect you.”

Ben yawned. “I know.” He patted his father’s hand. “Go to bed, Dad. Everything will turn out.”


End file.
